TS Eliot was right. This is indeed the way the world ends: not with a bang, but a whimper.

There were two earthquakes in the San Francisco area last night, albeit relatively piddly ones, which classified as whimpers of sorts. But there was no fire and brimstone, no millions of Christians levitating in the air and ascending to heaven, no cataclysmic destruction that amounted to anything that could be described as a bang.

And so it came to pass, brethren, that the world ended – again – and carried on regardless.

Harold Camping, the 90-year-old preacher from Oakland who has made the Rapture his unique selling point in America's crowded evangelical broadcasting market, is suffering from diminishing returns. When he first predicted the world's end, in 1994, it put him on the map.

When he heralded the Rapture for a second time earlier this year, on 21 May, he got pretty decent exposure from it. He raised millions in funding for his billboard and RV advertising campaign that preceded it, and managed to persuade several followers to give up their jobs and dedicate themselves to preparing to meet their maker.

Professing himself to be deeply puzzled to have woken up on 22 May with body and soul intact, he then recalibrated, and found – lo ye faithful! - that there was a five-month time-lapse and the final, final ending of the world would take place on 21 October.

It's not yet clear what he will say on 22 October.

The good news for Camping is that at least one person still believes him – his wife. His bank balance is still very healthy, with $70m in the coffers of his Family Radio International ministry.

And to be fair to him, as I write, there are still 13 hours to go before the end of the day on the east coast of America, and 16 hours on the west coast where he is based (19 hours if you count Hawaii).

Anything could happen in that time. Anything at all. And come to think about it, there is an ominously dark cloud gathering just outside my Manhattan window …